Tale as Old as Time
by ShadowRose997
Summary: All James Potter II had always wanted was a date with Madison Flint. However, she refused to give it to him. But naturally, everything will change in seventh year, because James Potter II is just like his namesake. History always has a way of repeating itself.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**A/N: As much as I would love to be J.K. Rowling, I'm not. This is her world, I'm just writing in it. Enjoy the story! **

**James II POV:**

"Finnegan, Hailey!" McGonagall's voice rung out through the Great Hall. It was my first year, and I stood among my classmates, waiting to be sorted into my House.

Not that I needed a hat to tell me what House I'd be sorted into. I was a Gryffindor through and through. My room at home was already decked out in maroon and gold. Both of my parents were Gryffindors, and so were both sets of grandparents, and according to all of my parents' friends, I was just like my grandfather and namesake, James Potter. We even looked identical, I had noticed, looking at pictures. Both had dark, uncontrollable hair and brown eyes. So Gryffindor was clearly in my future.

As these thoughts were running through my mind, a small brown-haired girl ran up to the stool in which the Sorting Hat rested and quickly sat down, anxiously awaiting her fate.

After a few moments of deliberation, the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

The little girl ran to her new House table, where the blue and bronze group of "knowledge seekers," as the Sorting Hat had so nicely called them, awaited her, applauding. Among the clapping Ravenclaws, I saw two of my cousins: Dom Weasley, a fifth-year, and Louis Weasley, a fourth-year. Since they were so much older than me, I never really talked to them all that much. I mean, I loved them and all, but in general I preferred the company of my younger cousins like Rose, and my brother Albus. However, they were each a year younger than me. The only other family member I had here was Fred, who stood right next to me.

"Flint, Madison!"

I had heard that name before. The Flints were a notorious pureblood line, and a particularly nasty one, at that. Even though most of the pureblood families, like the Malfoys, had lessened their pureblood mania after the fall of Voldemort, – my father always said to speak his true name – the Flints had held tightly to theirs. Marcus Flint had been six years above my father, and it was rumored that his sneer could curdle dairy. I had heard about him many times in my father's animated retellings of his very first Quidditch match.

However, the young girl that moved eagerly towards the Sorting Hat looked nothing like her father. Her golden blonde hair hung down her back in ringlets, and as she sat down, I saw her bright blue eyes flashing with excitement. Even my eleven-year brain registered that she was quite pretty. Nonetheless, all the Slytherins looked expectantly at the girl, preparing to add her to their ranks. Even though the Second Wizarding War ended Voldemort's reign, the prejudices regarding Muggles were too deeply ingrained in some families to be properly erased. Slytherin was still the House that collected the children with those ideas, since the prejudices originated from the original Founder, Salazar Slytherin himself. In all due respect, the House overall had improved over the years, according to my father, and most of the kids in Slytherin were actually relatively decent.

However, after a few moments of though, the Sorting Hat surprised everybody, by crying out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Apparently she was unlike her parents in more than just looks.

Her eyes widened in shock; obviously, she had expected the same result as the Slytherins. The entire Hall suddenly got much quieter, as the girl blushed furiously as she stood up off the stool.

After the painstaking silence, the Gryffindor table finally starting clapping for their new members, welcoming her to their ranks. As she went to sit down, she looked over, and we locked eyes. Holy cow. My heart picked up pace, and suddenly my hands felt clammy. As a little kid of the ripe young age of eleven, I had no idea what this could possibly mean.

All I knew was I was suddenly looking forward to being in the same House as Madison Flint.

It was second year when I first realized I liked Madison Flint.

How could I not? She was beautiful, with her gorgeous hair, stunning eyes, and priceless smile. She was smart, easily the best in the class, always knowing the answer when the teachers asked, and scoring high marks on all her work. I wasn't expecting much academic rivalry in school, but she was clearly on my level, and her hard work pushed her far ahead of me in classes. She was witty, always coming up with a biting remark to send back at anyone who chose to insult her, usually Slytherins, who insulted her for going against her family. She was athletic, being the only second-year on the House Quidditch team, besides me, of course. Basically, she was my dream girl.

I watched her intently, as she sat bent over her Charms essay in the common room, with her best friend. I couldn't quite remember her name.

Fred nudged me, and I looked at him. "Surely you're not staring at Flint, James?"

I avoided his eyes, and mumbled, "No."

"Bollocks," Fred replied. "Does Jamesie-poo have a crush?" He sing-songed.

"Shut it, Fred. Now what prank did you have in mind this time?" I asked.

By turning the subject to his favorite, I avoided having to answer the question. He began to prattle on about our next greatest scheme, as Gavin and Liam, our best friends since the Start of Term Feast in first year, listened with rapt attention. I stole a glance back at Flint, who was laughing at something her friend had said, before tuning in to Fred's monologue.

I wondered if I'd ever have the courage to ask her out.

It was third year, and I was finally going to do it. I was going to ask Flint to go to Hogsmeade with me. Surely she'd say yes? After all, I was James Potter II. My parents were famous, I was pretty attractive, if I do say so myself (three time winner of Witch Weekly's Best Smile Award, not that I care…) , and my friends and I were the most popular blokes in our year. I mean, she couldn't say no to me.

With this new burst of confidence from my mental pep talk, I approached Flint. She was sitting by the common room fire, reading a book and absentmindedly twirling a piece of her long blonde hair, which was swept up into a ponytail.

"Flint?" I asked, attempting to get her attention.

She looked up at me, confusion clouding her eyes as she realized who was speaking to her. "What do you want?" Her words were accusatory, and I felt my confidence take a deep dive.

I tried to sound confident as the next words tumbled out of my mouth like a case of word vomit, "I was thinking you'd like go to Hogsmeade with me."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Excuse me?"

"Hogsmeade? The town nearby?"

"I know what Hogsmeade is, Potter, I was referring to the fact that you assumed I said yes." By this point she had set her book down and was standing up, and even though she was a good deal shorter than me, she was still rather intimidating.

"Well, wouldn't you?" I replying, my voice wavering as I saw where this was going.

"No, I wouldn't as a matter of fact." She stared me straight in the eyes, raising her voice all the while.

My eyes grew wide and my mouth fell agape, as did some of the other kids in the common room, who had all started watching as soon as they had seen Flint stand up. I had never expected her to reject me, especially with the crows of people listening.

The next words flew out of my mouth like more word vomit. "But-but, why?"

"Because you're an arrogant toerag, that's why! I can't believe you just assumed I'd say yes! It's a wonder your broomstick can hold up that massive head of yours!" She yelled, and upon seeing nearly the entire common room staring at her, she blushed a brilliant pink.

She gathered her stuff and swiftly left the common room, retreating to her dormitory most likely, as I stood there dumbstruck.

When I told Dad the story, he found her final comment particularly funny, but I still don't know why.

After the initial sting of rejection, I steeled my resolve. I liked Madison, and would do anything to go out with her. So I decided to ask her out constantly, until she said yes. She couldn't avoid me forever.

Right?

**A/N: Really short, I know. The actual chapters are much longer. This is my first ever fanfic, so PLEASE REVIEW AND I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER. **** 10 points if you can find the **_**Tangled**_** reference.**


	2. I Really, Really Don't Want to Go Home

Chapter 1: I Really, Really Don't Want to Go Home

**A/N: I'm not J.K. Rowling. I don't own any of this, except any characters you don't recognize! The rest of this fanfic is from Madison's POV, not James's.**

"MADISON FLINT, YOU GET OUT OF THAT BED RIGHT NOW!"

I groaned, and my eyes were assaulted by the morning sunlight as my curtains were yanked open, because somehow, I was lucky enough to get the bed that faced the sunrise. Honestly, on my last day of sixth year and the only day I had slept in, this was the awakening I received? I curled up tighter, wrapping myself up in the warm blankets and shielding my eyes from the blinding light. Maybe if I just ignored her, she'd let me have my peace.

Wrong.

Before I had time to react, I felt Alexa Thomas's body crush mine, as she belly-flopped onto my bed.

"Geroff me." I mumbled into my pillow. This was why I ran in the morning. So I could successfully avoid this kind of wake-up. But I had let myself take a break today. Except now I was being crushed by the 55-kilo girl who I called my best friend.

"Unless you get up, Maddy, I don't think that's happening anytime – " She was stopped midsentence as I rolled over, successfully throwing her off of my bed. She hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up. Relax." I mumbled, as I threw my legs off the side of the bed, and stood up. I looked over at Alexa, who still stared at me, shocked.

"What was that for?" She said, pouting, as she brushed herself off. She was already fully dressed, in a pair of white shorts and a fitted hot pink T-shirt, her shoulder-length brown hair straight and styled perfectly, despite just being thrown off of a bed.

"Um… Crushing me? Anyways, haven't we established that being obnoxious in the morning will only get you hurt?" It was true. One time in fourth year, she had tried to drag me out of bed by my foot, and only succeeded in getting a black eye. That was a tough one to explain to Madam Pomfrey.

She rolled her eyes, as I turned on my heel to go into the bathroom. I turned the shower on as hot as it could go, trying to ignore the inevitable: we were going home today.

If I could stay at Hogwarts over the summer, I would. Spending two months with my parents was positively torturous.

I washed my hair, letting the sweet scent of freesia and strawberries take me away, as I recited the introductory sentences in my Transfiguration book mentally. Transfiguration was my favorite, and best, subject, and I had read the book so many times that I had practically memorized the entire thing, and repeating the words in my head had an almost calming effect.

_Transfiguration is an art, one that is both difficult to master and beautiful to behold. The primary focus of advanced transfiguration is – _

"OI! MADDY! Hurry up, will you? I'm starving" Alexa yelled into the bathroom. Breakfast was her absolute favorite meal, and she wouldn't miss it for the world. In fact, she insisted on arriving early every morning so that there would never be shortage on her favorite foods: all of them. How the girl stays so skinny is forever a mystery to me.

I quickly dried off, dressing in jeans and a royal blue tank top. We all wore Muggle clothes on the last day, since there was really no point in wearing robes for the few hours we had left at the school.

I quickly performed a drying spell on my hair, and pulled it up into a ponytail. I didn't put on any makeup. I wasn't aiming to impress anyone, so why apply the effort? It simply wasn't worth it, even though my mother would positively rip my head off when she noticed I avoided the massive set she sent my for Christmas holidays. _The makeup helps that pitiful complexion of yours,_ my mother's voice rang out in my head.

I stole a quick glance in the mirror. What looked back at me was a five-foot-nine girl with wild blonde curls cascading down her back. _A woman should be petite, and you're a monster._ The mirror girl's eyes were a midnight blue, swimming with sadness, matching the frown she wore on her face. I quickly avoided her gaze.

I quickly walked out of the bathroom, and back into the dorm, where Alexa was standing, waiting for me. The other inhabitants of the dorm had already left, probably to say their last goodbyes to their friends from other Houses. I was friends with some of them, but not nearly as close as I was to Alexa, Hogwarts's resident beauty queen and heart-breaker extraordinaire. Honestly, we couldn't be more different.

"Are we in a better mood now?" She said, tapping her foot.

"Well, I'm not going to hurt you again, if that's what you're asking," I shot back, letting a small smirk creep onto my face.

Her mood quickly changed. "Aren't you excited, Maddy? We're done with sixth year, and we have the whole summer ahead of us!" She was smiling, and jumping around excitedly. Merlin, she has too much energy in the morning.

I hadn't exactly told Alexa about my parents. Yes, she was my best friend, but I really didn't want anybody knowing about that part of my life. As far as she knew, my parents just didn't like company, and that's why when we saw each other over the summer, it was always at her house.

"Sure, Alexa." I said, trying to smile at her. "Ready to go to breakfast?"

At that, she turned excitedly towards the door, and ran out, as I chased after her, out of the common room and onto the staircases. Fortunately, catching up to her wasn't exactly difficult, seeing as she was shorter than me and not athletic at all.

We entered the Great Hall and walked quickly to our seats, since we were some of the first people to arrive for breakfast. Alexa rapidly loaded her plate with eggs, bacon, and the like, while I looked regrettably at it all. _You can't eat junk food, child. You'll get even fatter._ I finally scooped a few pieces of fruit and some porridge onto my plate, and nibbled cautiously.

"Morning, Flint," a smooth voice said into my ear. I whipped around, only to find myself face-to-face with the one and only James Potter II.

Behind him were his three best friends, Fred Weasley, Gavin Wood, and Liam Johnson. Some of the teachers, like Flitwick and Headmistress McGonagall, jokingly referred to them as the Mini-Marauders, but no one except Potter himself seemed to understand the joke.

Fred Weasley was the womanizer of the group, and Potter's best mate. He had shaggy black hair and was quite tall, taller than Potter. He went through girls faster than he went through food, which is saying something because he ate A LOT. He'd probably shagged all of the girls in Hogwarts over fourth year, except me and maybe a few others, since I'm pretty sure Potter put me off limits to him. In addition, being part of the massive Potter-Weasley clan, he was as good as a celebrity in the Wizarding World. His father ran a huge joke shop in Diagon Alley called Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and it was probably from him that Fred had developed a massive love for all things prank-related. First years and particularly nasty Slytherins were his favorite targets.

Gavin Wood was the son of Oliver Wood, the famous Quidditch player turned coach for the Chudley Cannons, a team that had taken a surprising upturn in the past few years, almost making it to the World Cup last year. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, and most girls in the school wanted him. He basically lived and breathed Quidditch, and not much else save girls and his friends was that interesting to him.

Liam Johnson was the final member of the group, and unlike the others, he didn't have famous parents or anything like that. In fact, he was Muggle-born, not that it mattered to anyone. He was also extremely attractive, with light brown hair and melt-worthy green eyes. He was also a total gentleman, and the only boy out of the four I actually talked to out of my own free will. In addition, he was the studious one of the group, and usually buried himself in a book if he wasn't causing mischief. Of course, all of the boys were brilliant, but Johnson was the only one who actively put effort into his schoolwork.

"Potter, do us all a favor and bugger off." I snapped, not wanting to deal with him at all today.

"What, can't we be civil in the mornings?" He smiled at me. I glared back.

"Potter, we can't be civil ever, what makes you think that the time of day has any effect on that?" I rolled my eyes and started to turn back to my breakfast.

"You're so sexy when you snap at me." Alright, that was it. I was getting out of here before this escalated any further.

"If you won't go away, clearly I'll have to," I said, as I got up and moved to leave the Hall.

"Wait, Flint!" Potter said, as he grabbed my arm. "I have a question for you!" A familiar expression was forming in his eyes.

I quickly yanked myself out of his grasp, and walked as fast as I could towards the exit, knowing what was coming next.

However, before I got out the door, Potter shouted across the Great Hall. "WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?"

"NO, POTTER!" I replied, feeling a familiar heat creep up into my cheeks as the nearby students sniggered. For good measure, I flicked my wand behind me (I have rather good aim, if I do say so myself) and heard the general laughter that ensued as the other students noticed that Potter now had red hair and a nose to match, and his shoes had tripled in size, giving him the appearance of a clown. Well, at least now the exterior reflected the interior…

It wasn't like this was the first time this had happened. Potter's been asking me out like this since third year. I'm pretty sure it's an ongoing joke between him and his friends. All I know is that he's been hounding me, and I've turned him down every time, throwing in the occasional hex.

It's not that Potter isn't good looking, because, admittedly, he is. He has dark brown, almost black, hair, which is wild and sticks out in all sorts of weird places, and brown eyes. He's beaten Gilderoy Lockhart's record, and has won _Witch Weekly's _Best Smile Award for six years now, which is kind of creepy, considering he won it first when he was eleven. This is exactly why I find most girly witches absolutely ridiculous. He's also tall, probably six-foot-three, and extremely well built from Quidditch.

It's that he's so damn arrogant all the time. Sure, his father's the Savior of the Wizarding World and all that, but that doesn't give him the right to prance around the school like he owns the place. He and his friends pay practically no attention to teachers, save Wood, and constantly pull stupid pranks. And half of the staff doesn't even care. It's sickening.

I ran up to the dormitory, where I noticed I hadn't exactly done much as far as packing. We left in a matter of hours. I had put it off because, just maybe, if I didn't pack, then maybe I wouldn't have to go home at all. Hey, I can dream.

I started neatly folding my clothing and placing it inside my trunk, followed by my numerous textbooks and pleasure reading books, and finally, my more delicate items, like the pictures of my friends and me and my favorite bottle of perfume. Finally, I placed my valued Nimbus 3000 on top, sitting next to a well-worn pair of pointe shoes. I shut the trunk quickly, and glancing at the gold watch that I received for my seventeenth birthday, I realized it was almost time to head to the train. I left my trunk in my room, knowing that it would magically find its way to the train, and hurried down to find Alexa before we left.

Alexa and I had gotten onto the train quickly, finding an empty compartment with ease and stretching out across the seats. I laid comfortably on my stomach, lazily flipping through a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ that I had accidently nicked from the library in first year, holding on to the last remnants of the castle that remained until next September. Opposite me, Alexa prattled on about all her exciting plans for the summer.

" – and then I think we're going somewhere in Egypt! Isn't that cool? Plus, think of all the hot Egyptian guys…" She trailed off, with a dreamy look in her eyes.

"I'm so jealous of you, Lex," I replied honestly, "You have such an exciting summer ahead of you, and I'm stuck at home."

"Yeah, it kind of stinks that you can't come over at all this summer, but I know you'll still have a good time!" She looked at me brightly.

Once again, the girl's never met my family. My family and good time could never be used in the same sentence without some sort of negative in there as well.

I heard the compartment door slide open, so I rolled over to see who the intruder was, and lo and behold, once again we were face with Potter and Co.

"Dammit," Wood muttered, sticking his head into the compartment, "This one's taken too."

"If it's just firsties, kick 'em out!" Someone from outside the compartment yelled. I couldn't see who was speaking, but I recognized the deep tone anywhere: Fred Weasley.

The door slid open farther, and all four looked in.

"Well, I guess this is good enough," said Weasley, as he sat down next to Alexa, who glanced at him awkwardly before picking up a copy of _Witch Weekly_ she had dropped earlier and beginning to scan it for anything interesting. However, both of us knew she wouldn't, since she only had the magazine so that we could make fun of all the stupid things it said. Like voting an eleven-year-old Most Charming Smile. Did he even have all his teeth in yet?

Wood sat down next to Weasley, and Johnson sat opposite him, so guess who ended up next to me? My favorite person ever.

"Whatcha reading?" James asked annoyingly as he peeked over my shoulder to the massive book sitting in my lap.

"Nothing," I muttered, as I shut the book.

My head had begun to throb, although whether it was from the stress of going home or the fact that I was stuck spending the rest of the train ride next to Potter. I rested my head on the cool window, ignoring the idle chatter between the boys, and let myself drift off to sleep.

I was dreaming.

I sat by the lake, on a blanket, and there was a pair of arms wrapped around me. I didn't know who it was, all I knew was I felt immensely safe in his arms.

"I love you," He said, squeezing me tighter as he spoke.

"I love you too." I found the words tumbling out of my mouth, and despite the fact that I was speaking to an apparent stranger, saying it felt natural, and I knew in my heart that they were true.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of lips on mine. The kiss was gentle, not a full-on snog, but the romance fireworks went off in my head nonetheless. He pulled away and I opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with none other than …

James Potter.

I felt the train skid to a stop, and stirred. Whatever I was leaning on stiffened. Wait… as far as I remember, I fell asleep on the window, but I'm pretty sure that windows don't tense up.

I opened my eyes, and looked at where my head had once been. I saw a chiseled shoulder, and looked up, locking eyes with James Potter.

Shit. Somehow I'd moved in my sleep and ended up on his shoulder. Merlin, this is awkward.

I looked away quickly, unsuccessfully trying to hide the blush that was appearing on my cheeks. Of all the people I could have slept on, I chose the bloke who's most likely to make a big deal about it. I focused my eyes on the window, but the sight that greeted me there was no better than the one I had just turned my eyes from.

Out the window, all the parents looked expectantly at the Hogwarts Express. They were so excited to see their kids, and were flashing huge smiles at the train. Then I noticed my mother. She stood in a far off corner, refusing to socialize with anyone. Her own sister stood not ten feet away, holding hands with her husband. However, Aunt Astoria and Uncle Draco had long since dropped their pureblood superiority complexes to much more acceptable levels, even getting along with Muggleborns, and as a result, my mother was bitter towards them, upset about the decline in the value of good blood. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, and her lips were pursed with impatience. What a wonderful greeting.

"I wish I could give you a better goodbye, but my family has to be ready to go in ten minutes, and Collin is never on time!" Alexa hugged me tightly, reached up to grab her trunk, and ran off to find her third-year brother. I stuck my head out as she left.

"Write to me!" She yelled, as she flew down the hallway, bumping into a couple of Hufflepuffs along the way, but not seeming to care.

"I will!" I called back, turning back into the compartment. Great, I was in here with the Mini-Marauders, one of which I had been sleeping on moments ago.

The three guys walked out, telling Potter they'd meet him on the platform.

I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Oh Godric, had I said anything while I was asleep? Anything that might have given away what I was dreaming about?

"Potter, did I – erm – _say_ anything while I was asleep?" I mumbled awkwardly, not knowing how to bring up the subject, but knowing I needed an answer.

He stared at me awkwardly for a few seconds before answering. "No… why?"

"I just – I talk in my sleep, that's all. " I muttered, hoping he would end the conversation there.

Fortunately, he took the hint. Unfortunately, the change in subject was no better. "Flint, I can tell something's bothering you."

I was shocked. "W-what?"

He looked at me oddly, and continued, "I guess I just got a feeling, that's all. You look upset, and I'm just wondering why."

"It-it's nothing." I quickly replied, hoping my eyes wouldn't betray me. I'd been told my emotions were clearly visible just by looking in my eyes.

Obviously they did, because a look of concern flashed over his features. "Yes, there is, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," he said politely, as he pulled my trunk out of the overhead shelf and handed it to me. "Have a nice summer, Madison."

I stood there, dazed for a few moments. However, I shook myself out of it as I was reminded of my mother's impatient glare. I grabbed my trunk, and hurried off the train. It was only then that I realized we had gone through a whole conversation without him asking me out.

He had called me Madison.

**A/N: There you go, the first chapter! I hope you like it, and whether you do or not, please review! One day update time – yay! Sorry, but don't come to expect that… I'm not always this efficient!**


	3. Home Bittersweet Home

Chapter 2: Home Bittersweet Home

**A/N: I'm not J.K., nor will I ever be. I own nothing. Sadly. For those of you who were wondering, the **_**Tangled **_**reference in the Prologue, it was the phrase "his sneer could curdle dairy." It's from the "I Have a Dream" song. Kinda obscure, but I've seen that movie so many times that I noticed it immediately when I was editing the chapter. **

Instead of the huge hugs and animated greetings that every other parent was giving to their child as they stepped off the Hogwarts Express, my mother looked at me curtly, and held out her arm, preparing to Apparate. In all honesty, I was surprised she had even bothered to come, considering I had gotten my Apparition license in March, not long after I had turned seventeen. It was probably just to uphold reputation. If the Wizarding World knew how the Flints really felt about their only daughter, they might lose status. Not that most people cared about the elite pureblood families anymore, but apparently my family still thought so.

Depsite my expectations, she had shown up anyway. I touched her arm just lightly enough to be considered attached to her, avoiding as much physical contact as possible. I felt the familiar feeling of being squished through a tube designed for a house-elf, and suddenly we were standing in the large foyer of the Flint Manor.

My mother looked me up and down, pursing her red lips as she analyzed me, and smoothing her hair with her hand. Not that she needed to, of course. Her pale blonde was pulled into a tight bun, perfectly controlled, just like the rest of her. She was wearing a black silk blouse and a dark grey pencil skirt, with black heels. To her, anything less was far too casual to be worn in public. No wonder she always disapproved of my clothing choices, as I never strayed from jeans, T-shirts, and ponytails, the epitome of the tomboy she wished she didn't have.

Now that we were in the comfort of our own (rather large) house, she finally opened her mouth. Even with heels, she was still about three inches shorter than me (I got my height from my father), but she was intimidating nonetheless.

"You've gotten fat again." She pointed out as she walked by, grabbing my stomach and pinching it to illustrate her point. "We've gone over this: skinny girls are pretty girls. For some reason, you got the bad genes, and have that ridiculous hair and monstrous height, so you need as much help as you can get."

I stood there in silence, waiting to hear more, before she finally spoke. "Go put your things away, and go greet your father, he's in his study."

She left the room, her heels clacking on the dark hardwood flooring.

Following her example, I left the room, trunk in tow.

Not that seeing my father was going to be much better than this encounter. In fact, it would probably be worse. But I knew better than to blatantly disrespect my mother. At least not to her face; I'd tried that once in an attempt to escape her talons, but the result was the loudest reprimanding I'd ever had in my whole life. Including the one I got from McGonagall after I smashed treacle tart in Potter's face, accidently initiating a Great Hall-wide food fight.

I was still not really sure how I feel about my parents. I definitely didn't have that whole family-love-hugging thing you see with most families. As a kid, I was spoiled, and my parents gave me anything I dreamt of. That lifestyle faded with one word, spoken by an enchanted hat at the ripe young age of eleven.

By being sorted into Gryffindor, I had betrayed my family by "cavorting with Muggleborns and blood traitors alike, and identifying with the House that promotes it." My mother had used this chief failure as ammunition, and every time she spoke to me, she continued to build on it. Not that she wasn't right, but I was getting sick of her telling me what the mirror already showed.

It was strange, because I constantly felt like I was being pulled in two different directions. Part of me wanted to rebel against my parents as much as I could, and the other part desperately wanted them to be proud of me. So I was slightly bipolar in that regard, alternating between going against their wishes and fighting for them to accept me.

After climbing multiple sets of stairs and weaving down numerous hallways, I finally found my room. I pushed open the door, relishing the sight of it. Despite how uncomfortable I was here, this room was still my home. Most of the room was mint green and silver, since my family always expected me to be a Slytherin, and the mint color gave it a girlier touch because little-kid me was a beauty queen – almost literally the child version of Alexa, minus the whole snogging every guy in the school thing.

After I was sorted into Gryffindor, my parents didn't bother changing it, either because they were embarrassed of me or didn't want to spend the money on me anymore. The only reason they ever bought me gifts was because it might look suspect if a pureblood's only daughter didn't receive any gifts from her own parents, and to my parents, reputation, along with blood status, was everything.

Just to spite them, I had hung a large Gryffindor flag by the entrance, enchanted to roar whenever either of my parents walked in. It was enchanted by a Permanent Sticking Charm, and I assume my mother wasn't bothered enough to find an effective countercharm. I'm pretty sure she just avoided my room altogether. It was easier for her to pretend as much as she could that she didn't have a daughter, than to acknowledge that her daughter was a blood traitor.

I took my sweet time unpacking, pushing off the inevitable run-in with my father, meticulously placing my books on the shelves, organized alphabetically by author, my clothes hanging in my closet, color-coordinated. I was of age, and could have easily unpacked with the flick of my wand, but I chose to buy myself some time, and do it the Muggle way. At last, I decided it was probably inevitable that I would have to go greet him soon.

On my way out, I stopped to look in the mirror. My mother was right. I was getting a little chubby, and I immediately felt guilty for skipping my morning run. Why did I think I deserved to sleep in? I obviously didn't, as could be seen by the fat on my stomach. Gross.

Apparently my nap on the train had wrecked my hair, because it was slightly crooked and a few long pieces had snuck out and fell to the sides of my face. I was honestly surprised my mother hadn't commented on the wrecked situation it was currently in. I yanked the tie out and retied it, so that all the stray hairs were out of my face and it was centered on my head.

I left my room, walking down the hall to my father's study. It was where he could be found at nearly all times. I briefly made a mental bet – how many empty bottles of Firewhiskey would he have surrounding him today? Let's go with two. After all, the house-elf picks them up while he's sleeping, so it'll only be what he's drunk today. Two sounds about right.

My father had once held a high and influential job in the Ministry, but he quit after my second year at Hogwarts. It wasn't like income was a problem; we were loaded with "old money." Fallen out of love with my mother, frustrated that his only child was both a girl and a blood traitor, and angry that my mother couldn't give him another heir, he turned to the bottle. I couldn't remember a day when he wasn't completely drunk, hungover, or in a shitty mood because he hadn't had enough alcohol.

People probably thought he quit the Ministry so he could control it from the outside, but in reality, that was all a pretense and he just quit so he could get drunk off his ass everyday and no one would have to know. Lovely.

I tentatively pushed open the door, not knowing what to expect. He had mood swings – almost like a hormonal teenage girl, except there was no happy/giddy/oh-my-Merlin-life-is-amazing emotion. It was three choices, based on luck of the draw: angry hungover, angry drunk, and angry alcohol-deprived.

Angry hungover was bad – he would go on about how I was an utter disgrace, muttering curses to himself. Angry drunk was worse – he yelled at me for being a blood traitor and a horrible child and a girl. Angry alcohol-deprived was worst – he threatened me and promised I would die and even fingered his wand a few times. Fortunately, I doubted he could still use it, as being an alcoholic his magic was most likely weakened.

He sat at his desk, taking a swig of Ogden's. Two bottles were on the floor. Score. I had gotten rather good at guessing after almost five years.

"Father, I'm home," I called quietly. It was funny how bold I could be at school, and then in the presence of my parents I had all the nerve of a schizophrenic mouse.

"Filthy blood traitor daughter," he mumbled to himself. So he was in his hungover stage. This was good, because having to deal with him in any other stage resulted in ringing ears, plus, I really didn't enjoy being on the receiving end of death threats. Most people don't, I'd imagine.

"What a disgrace," he continued to mutter. I chose not to interrupt him by trying to leave, so I just let him go. "I gave you everything, stupid daughter, EVERYTHING. And then you go and fuck it all by turning against your own family and everything we've taught you to believe and getting sorted into Gryffindor. Do you understand what that means to my family? TWELVE GENERATIONS OF SLYTHERINS. We were a legacy. You bitch, you ruined it all. Not to mention you can't even carry the family name. I'm doomed to a dead-ended pureblood family. And it's entirely your fault. We'll be lucky if we can find you a respectable pureblood husband. Nobody wants a Gryffindor. Much less you." He bared his teeth at me, and I took a moment to thank Merlin that I hadn't inherited his crooked teeth: at least one part of me that was normal looking.

I stared at my gold flip-flops, counting the stitches. So far I had gotten to 27 on the left side of my right foot, but my vision was becoming blurry as I fought off tears.

I noted the irony that I normally didn't cry in front of people – ever. Even when a Bludger slammed into my leg and broke the bone clean in half, my eyes only watered. I had gotten rather good at controlling the tears, especially when physical pain was the only thing involved.

But both of my parents could bring tears to my eyes in a few snappy sentences. Hearing the two people who gave you life say that they wish they didn't is a little bit upsetting. More than a little. I'm pretty sure my heart cracked every time they said anything to me. At this point it was probably as shattered as the Horcrux locket displayed at Hogwarts. And that thing was pretty broken up.

A tear slid down my cheek, plopping onto the top of my foot as it fell off my face. It landed straight on my big toenail, which was painted bright purple thanks to Alexa, who painted my nails whenever she could get the chance, while I explained Transfiguration or Charms concepts to her. Sometimes it was quite a good thing we were friends: we complemented each other perfectly.

Fortunately, my internal ramblings distracted me from the rest of my father's lecture, although I could probably predict what he had said. None of it was new to me. I was a disgrace to the family, a disgrace to purebloods everywhere, a disgrace to the whole Wizarding World. Disgrace was definitely my father's favorite word, at least when I was around. I'm pretty sure he used it nearly every other sentence.

When I looked back up at him, it seemed he had fallen asleep. His head lay on his desk, and he had started drooling. I took the opportunity and snuck out of the room.

If I was lucky enough, I wouldn't have to deal with him for most of the summer. He stayed in his study, and I kept to the areas of the house where I could best avoid any parental contact. My mother was often out socializing, so that part wasn't difficult. I ended up eating at awfully strange times, though, so that I wouldn't run into her in the dining room.

I went back into the room, flopping onto the fluffy down comforter, inhaling the warm vanilla and lavender scent it had. As I inhaled the perfume, I found myself grateful for the house-elves. I loved the fact that my bed smelled just as appealing as it felt.

Well, this was it. I was home for the next two months.

Home sweet home.

Not.

**A/N: For some reason, I couldn't ever get around to writing this chapter. I kept skipping around it, and I think I finished 3, 4, and 5 before I did this one. Oopsies. It's kind of a baby chapter, but there was nowhere else where it actually fit. Both this chapter and the next are really fluffy and not exactly funny, but they introduce some plot stuff, so they're stuck in here. Hang in there, it gets good, I pinky-swear!**


	4. Routine

Chapter 3: Routine

**A/N: Still not a billionaire author. Darn.**

My summer went as usual: me avoiding my parents in any and every way possible. It wasn't extremely difficult, it was just a matter of keeping myself occupied.

Every morning I woke up at five; my body was used to it. Sleeping in, like I had on my last day of Hogwarts, was a luxury that I couldn't afford.

Before the sun had a chance to rise, I was outside and running. The ten-mile-long path was familiar: it wrapped around the outside of the manor, off into the forest that was outside of our perimeter. It wove through there for a while, ending in a large meadow, where the grass was grown high, except in the spots where I had run over it so many times that the plants just stopped growing. Eventually, it found its way back into the Flint property, dumping me off by the back door.

I bent over, breathing hard. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, meaning it was just past six. As pretty as it was, I was anxious to get into the cool air-conditioned manor and away from the sun that was beginning to beam down on my already sweaty form.

I hurried into the house, grabbing a bottle of water from our house-elf, Pinky, as I walked up to my room, heading straight for the shower. I set the water as cold as I could, relishing in the cool streams that tingled as they attacked my body, rinsing off the sticky layer of sweat I had accumulated, as I inhaled the familiar fragrance of my body wash while I rubbed it into my skin. I stepped out of the shower, toweled myself dry, and changed into a pair of running shorts and a baggy red T-shirt that almost concealed the shorts. I wasn't going out in public anytime soon, so what did it matter if it looked like I wasn't wearing pants? I quickly dried my hair with a spell, and left it down so that it tumbled down my sides.

I padded downstairs, careful to avoid waking my sleeping parents in the large master bedroom on their third floor, to the large dining room, where Pinky was waiting attentively, knowing I would be down soon for my morning meal. As soon as she saw me, she Disapparated with a crack, and reappeared moments later, bearing a tray of food. On it sat a singular cup of black coffee, a piece of toast, and an orange. My mother had a strict diet plan plan set up for me, and Pinky, who was absolutely terrified of the wrath of my mother, obliged. Not that I was complaining. The absolute last thing I needed was free rein of the kitchen.

I sat down, sipping on the coffee, until I heard a familiar tapping on the window. I opened the window to greet my snowy owl, Willow, who dropped the _Daily Prophet_ into my hand, nibbling it affectionately. Occasionally, she also carried a letter from Alexa, but today, obviously, that was not the case.

I flipped through the paper casually as I ate, and upon seeing nothing of interest, I left the dining room, retreating back up the stairs. On the second floor I found the library, where I curled up in a comfy armchair with a copy of _Modern Advances in Charms_, a book I had found somewhere in the expansive library, one of the few I hadn't already conquered.

I wasn't sure how long I spent reading, but after about 200 pages I grew rather restless, and headed off towards my room.

Upon getting there, I briefly glanced around the room, locating my broom where it hung on a coat rack, next to a thick black winter cloak. I grabbed it and walked towards the large bay window opposite the entrance to my room. In a rather ungraceful set of movements, I managed to get myself out the window and comfortably perched on the broom.

I pushed off of the side of the house, soaring into the sky. It was later in the day, probably about 11 or so, and the sun was beating down on me. As I flew through the air, accelerating and flying as creatively as I could, I felt my hair whip at my shoulders, since it was out of its usual ponytail, and the breeze caressed my face. I flew faster and faster, until the Flint manor was nearly out of sight. I had a pretty good sense of direction, so I figured I could find my way back later. Worst-case scenario, I had my wand, so I could locate the manor if I needed to.

I looked down at the massive forested area below, interspersed with a few large houses, not unlike mine. All these houses belonged to other wizarding families, so there was really no concern of me being seen by Muggles. My family couldn't stand the idea of living close to such "filth."

I started looping around in the air, diving down and pulling up, and testing just how fast my broom could turn.

At one point, I found myself ridiculously low to the ground, close enough that I could jump and land easily on the roof of whatever mansion was below me. Suddenly, I looked into the yard, and saw a familiar black head of hair, looking up at me with interest. Dammit, how could I have forgotten that the Potter Mansion was just a few miles from my house? Potter had made that very clear on multiple occasions, constantly inviting me over. And I'd denied every single invitation. I was not going to his house so he could screw me over and then brag about it, thank you very much.

"Shit." I muttered to myself. "Shit, shit, shit." I quickly launched myself into the sky, but not before I heard Potter scream up at me.

"I'M PRETTY SURE RIDING AROUND WITHOUT PANTS ON IS CONSIDERED PUBLIC INDECENCY, FLINT!" His booming voice had an edge of amusement, like he was laughing at me while yelling.

I looked down at my broom. Sitting at this angle, my massive shirt managed to cover up my shorts, giving the appearance that I was, indeed, pants-less. Shit.

I quickly flew down towards Potter, getting close enough to flash him my running shorts, and prove that I was indeed wearing something underneath the massive shirt. After all, I didn't want him convincing the school I was some kind of weirdo who flew pantsless, because that was probably something he would do.

He wolf-whistled after me, probably at my slight semblance of a striptease.

I rolled my eyes and shot back up into the sky, hurtling myself into the opposite direction.

As the afternoon began to set in, I realized I should probably get back to my house so I could have some lunch.

I turned back the way I came, and sped towards the area I knew led to the Flint Manor.

Upon arriving, I crawled back into the window, and, not caring how sweaty I was, hurried down to the dining room. Fortunately, it was around two o'clock, meaning my parents had eaten a while ago and I had the table to myself again.

Pinky brought up food, a large and colorful salad as it was, and I began to ravenously dig into my food.

However, I was interrupted from my dining by a rapping of claws on the window.

I looked over, and recognized the school owl immediately. How could I, in my organized daily routine, have forgotten that it was two weeks from the start of term, the day Hogwarts letters were delivered?

The owl dropped the letter into my hand, where it landed with a loud clunk. That was peculiar; the envelope was even heavier than it had been fifth year, when I was sent a prefect badge...

I viciously and excitedly ripped open the letter, all thoughts of lunch forgotten.

_Miss Flint,_

_Welcome to your seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_Please be at Platform 9 ¾ no later than 11 o'clock on September first in order to board the Hogwarts Express._

_Attached is the list of supplies you will need for the upcoming term._

_I am also pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Head Girl. This job, a prestigious responsibility given to the top boy and girl in the seventh year class that has existed since the birth of Hogwarts many years ago, requires you to lead the other Prefects in their jobs, along with guiding the rest of the school as well. I hope you take this responsibility seriously. Please be prepared to lead the Prefect's meeting beginning promptly at 11 o'clock aboard the Hogwarts Express. In addition, I would like to see you in my office immediately after arrival at the school. The password is "Sugar Quill."_

_In addition, you have been selected as a co-captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the first year a team has ever had two captains, but Professor Longbottom was unable to chose the single best player for the job, and requested both of you shared the captaincy._

_Sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

As I read the letter, my heart soared. Head Girl and Quidditch Captain? I flipped the envelope over, and sure enough, two separate badges tumbled out and landed on the table with a clanging noise.

Re-reading the letter, I noticed something. The word "co-captain." That meant I was going to have to work with a partner, and with my luck, it will probably be Potter. Forget that, I KNOW it's going to be Potter. In reflection, both of us are about equal in skill-level (though I'd never admit it to his face), each averaging almost 100 points per game, and we've been on the team for the same length of time. Regardless of how good he was, controlling him at practice was going to be hell, I could feel it already.

"What are you reading?" My mother snapped, entering the room. Damn. I'd done such a good job of avoiding her so far today. My dad wasn't difficult to steer clear of, considering he stayed in his study with copious amounts of alcohol, but my mum occasionally wandered the house, doing various activities, and there was always the risk of running into her. For example, right now.

"Hogwarts letters came today." I said, avoiding her eyes, and instead focusing my gaze on the woodwork of the table.

"And..?" My mother clearly saw the badges on the table; she just wanted me to say it myself. After 17 years, I clearly understood her antics and knew when to take a hint. And I was pretty sure where this conversation was going to go.

"I got Head Girl and Quidditch Captain." I said, continuing to study the glossy wood.

She scoffed. "Honestly, that school is going downhill, if you're the best they've got. I mean, you're not particularly spectacular in anything. But then again, that's probably why they gave you the Head Girl position. The headmistress probably pities you, and wants to make you feel important. In case you forgot, you're not."

As she continued her rant about what a horrible person I was, I left the room, not wanting to hear any more, and attempting to hide the tears that were forming in my eyes. After 7 years of this, I should be used to the verbal abuse. Yet, I'm still not.

I walked determinedly up the stairs, and into the room two doors away from my bedroom. I shut the door quickly, surveying my surroundings. A dance studio. The pale wood was perfectly polished, and a barre wrapped around three walls, facing the final wall, which was covered in mirrors. A few shelves sat in the far corner, holding a music player and a few pairs of dance shoes, of varying sizes and uses.

When I was really young, around six or so, I decided that I wanted to be a dancer. As I was still a well-loved child, having not yet committed my "massive betrayal," my parents immediately jumped on the bandwagon, showering me in pretty and sparkly leotards, taking me to lessons at Madam Ferguson's School of Dance, hiring me a private teacher, and turning this room, which once functioned as one of our many guest bedrooms, into a formal dance studio.

Sadly, once I entered Hogwarts, my parents suddenly found lessons wasteful, since "I was never going to be a good dancer." However, I kept up with the art, using the Room of Requirement, which I discovered walking back to my dorm after being berated by the Ancient Runes teacher, Professor Carmichael, for dancing in the hallway. The room morphed into a massive dance studio, and I started coming by multiple times a week. Without an actual teacher, I didn't receive real criticism, guiding my learning off of books and dance performances I'd seen, so I couldn't really say I was a good dancer, since I didn't even know what I looked like while dancing.

All I knew was that dancing was my release. Whenever I was feeling particularly angry, sad, or stressed, I immediately turned to the studio. Dancing made me feel beautiful and graceful, a feeling I was otherwise unfamiliar with.

I quickly walked over to the shelves, picking up my pointe shoes, and snaking the ribbon up my calves, tying the fraying ribbon in a bow just below the back of my knee. I tapped the music player with my wand, and instantly, soft pitches began to play, and I began to dance, letting every emotion release itself, as I focused on my movements. The music picked up pace, and I adjusted to the change, swiftly pirouetting and moving across the room, feeling light as a bird. I let the music continue on, and as the time wore on, I felt the weight lift off of my chest.

Finally, the music player stopped, obviously reaching the end of the record. Simultaneously, I realized that my feet were throbbing. Although I had been en pointe for over five years, the painful sensation of standing on the tops of your toes for an hour never really faded. I looked up at the mirror, laughing at what stared back at me. My oversized shirt had completely overtaken my shorts, and the bun I had yanked my hair up into was falling to the side, and little pieces had tumbled out. I looked borderline ridiculous, resembling a little kid with the exception of the elegant shoes that wrapped around my calves. But as I sat down, all I could do was laugh. Because in that moment, it didn't matter what I looked like. I felt purged of all worries; I had, if only for a moment, escaped from bitter reality.

Steadily loosening the ribbons, I swapped the pointe shoes for some soft-soled ballet shoes, feeling my feet sigh in relief. I then proceeded to restart the music, drifting off into my own little fantasy land again, where nothing, not even my mother's biting remarks or my father's angry hits, could touch me. In the flat shoes, I allowed myself more expression, and left any concern over technique behind as I swiped the floor with my hand, followed by a series of spins. I launched myself in the air, feeling the music as if it coursed through my veins, as the faster, more aggressive tempo matching my feelings exactly.

Once again, the music died out on me. As much as I wanted to stay in the studio forever, I had other things I wanted to accomplish, and I was running out of hours in the day. As I reached to turn off the lights, I made a silent promise to the empty room that I would be back again tomorrow.

I found myself, for the second time in a day, walking back to my room soaked in sweat. I showered quickly, and pulled my hair into a bun, not bothering to dry it. I hated wearing my hair down. I felt like it always got in the way and, as I was constantly reminded by my mother, it had a mind of its own and on occasion looked like it could house a family of small birds.

I crawled into the chaise lounge that sat in the corner of my room, pulling out my Arithmancy notes. I had finished my homework weeks ago, but I continued to review for the purpose of staying on top of things.

With a crack, Pinky appeared in my room. After bowing profusely, which I always insisted she didn't have to do, she asked me, "Miss has not had any dinner yet. Would Miss like Pinky to bring her dinner?"

I glanced out my window; it was pitch-black outside, apparently later than I thought.

I looked back at her and answered, "Yes, Pinky, that would be great."

She Disapparated from the room, appearing moments later with a tray of food: this time holding a bowl of soup, a piece of toast, and a glass of juice. "Thanks, Pinky." I said, as I grabbed the tray from her and she once again left my room.

I ate hungrily, while re-reading my notes from a particularly interesting class last year that involved birthdate numerology, and left the plate on the table.

Finally, after a long day, I padded over to my bed and fell asleep instantly, with visions of a certain raven-haired boy once again haunting my dreams.

**A/N: If there's an award for fluffiest chapter ever, I'm pretty sure this one takes the cake. It's kinda random, but whatever. I promise, the next chapter will be good, with lots of James/Madison drama! Regardless of the lack of interesting-ness of this chapter, please review! **


	5. A Truce?

Chapter 4: A… Truce?

**A/N: Gryffindor is red, Ravenclaw is blue, I'm not J.K. Rowling, is that a surprise to you? (testing out my poetry skills here :P )**

I had a pair of arms wrapped around me, and mine were snaked around that same person's torso. I was pressed up against him, my forehead placed on his chest, and he was toying with my hair, which hung loosely down my back. I couldn't help but notice he was quite muscular, as my hands were placed on his very defined back.

We talked about anything and everything, kissing in between. However, I never really saw his face; it was like the rest of the dream was crystal clear and only his face was blurred out.

Finally, we broke apart, and as I kissed him goodbye, I finally saw his face. James Potter.

I woke up breathing heavily. For some reason, Potter kept making appearances in my dreams, and for some other even weirder reason, we were always involved romantically, instead of biting each other's heads off, as we did in real life.

I looked over at the clock next to my bed: five o'clock, just like my wake-up time every other day of the summer. However, today wasn't just any other day. Today was the day I finally got to go back to Hogwarts. That alone put me in a very good mood, and I tied the laces on my running shoes with extra vigor.

As I ran, I mentally double-checked that I had everything ready for my departure. My final departure. Provided I could find an apartment immediately after graduation (and I would do anything to make sure this was the case), I was gone from this house for good as soon as I left at eleven. The freedom was as sweet as the morning breeze that floated by me with each stride. I ran down my checklist once again, and by that time, I had arrived at the house, where Pinky was already waiting with a cold glass of water. I thanked her, and ran up the stairs. It was a routine.

In the center of the room sat my trunk, already loaded and shut, with Willow sitting inside her cage on top. I had started packing almost a week ago, taking the utmost care that everything in the trunk was arranged exactly how I wanted it.

I took my time in the shower, relishing that it was the last time I would ever use this particular one. That was a little sad, considering it had jets of water from all sides and could infuse the water with any scent I chose. However, leaving my parents more than made up for the loss of pretty-smelling water. By a long shot.

I got dressed, putting on a pair of khaki shorts and a dark green V-neck shirt and sliding a pair of leather sandals on my feet. I dried my hair as well, and yanked it up into its familiar ponytail. Simply because I knew my mother would say something to me about it before I left, I put on a light dusting of powder and a quick coat of mascara, before spraying my neck with perfume and flouncing out of the bathroom, feeling as if I was walking on air.

Too happy to be bothered with going downstairs, I pulled a protein bar out of the top of my trunk, and quickly ate it, while flipping through the _Prophet_, as was my usual morning routine. The "Society" section mentioned something about the Potter-Weasley family, but I skipped past it, as the goings on of wizard celebrities really wasn't high on my priority list. Instead, I found an interesting article on a new piece of legislation that was about to be passed regarding transportation of hippogriffs – apparently there had been some sort of accident that resulted in a missing arm, and the Ministry was cracking down to prevent it from happening again. I chuckled to myself – honestly, who was stupid enough to approach a hippogriff first showing it respect? We really wouldn't need all these laws if people just stopped being idiots.

I flopped back onto my bed, letting post-run exhaustion pull me into a brief nap.

I slept dreamlessly, for once, without the disturbance of Potter in my nap. However, when I woke up, I glanced at the clock. Damn, it was ten already. I probably should say goodbye to my parents before I Apparated to the train station, which I would do at first chance, since I had no problem with being almost an hour early.

I walked down to my father's study, because out of the two parents, his location was the most predictable. However, before I got there, I nearly ran straight into my mother.

She looked at me irritably. "Now where are you going?" She asked suspiciously.

"I'm leaving soon, so I was coming to let you two know." I told her matter-of-factly, looking straight into her dark blue eyes, which were mirror images of my own, with the exception of the streaks of gray that ran through hers and gave them more of a stony effect.

"Oh. Alright then." She snapped, and with that, she walked away from me. That was my final goodbye. Three words. But hey, at least she didn't say anything rude. For once.

One down. One to go. I could do this.

I walked into my father's study, and saw him sitting in his large leather chair. Next to him sat two empty bottles of Firewhiskey, and he had a third clutched in his hand. Merlin, that was even more that usual. He was dozing off in his chair.

"Father?" I asked hesitantly, half-hoping he wouldn't hear me.

But he did. "What do you want?" He asked gruffly. This was becoming a pattern of greeting.

"I'm leaving for school soon; I was just saying goodbye." I said warily, moving towards the door.

With a massive amount of effort, he heaved himself up off his chair and began to stagger towards me. Seeing as my back was literally against a wall, I didn't exactly have a place to go.

I waited tentatively, not knowing what to expect. If he tried to hug me, it would be about as awkward as hugging Voldemort, which Uncle Draco once told me was quite possibly the most uncomfortable experience of his life. Apparently there was an awkward back pat in there and everything.

His eyes had a malicious gleam, but by the time I noticed, it was too late. "What a disgrace," He muttered under his breath, and with that, he raised his hand.

I tried to jump out of the way, but I had seen his intent too late. With a loud _SLAP_, his flattened hand connected with my arm. Pain shot up my arm like sparks, and I gasped from the impact.

"Now get out of my sight." He ordered me, raising the other hand to point to the door.

As quickly as I could, I fled the room, shutting the door behind me. Sure, he had yelled at me plenty of times before, but never had he made physical contact. I stood on the outside of his door, catching my breath and re-living the incident. I looked down at my arm, and sure enough, an angry red handprint was left just above my elbow. Just as a test, I poked it. Because, you know, that's a smart idea. The touch burned like fire, and I quickly removed my finger.

I hurried back to my room, knowing that these were most likely the final memories I would have of my parents. But then again, I didn't care. It wasn't like any of the previous ones were any more endearing. To them, I was and always would be a blood traitor, meaning I was no better than a Muggle-born itself.

Once again, I looked down at my arm. Walking onto the train with that showing would be a sure-fire way to attract attention, and if I was going to be noticed on the train, it would be for the two badges on my robes, not the welt on my arm.

I reached into my trunk, and grabbed the first sweatshirt I could find. It was ratty and grey, and only reached my belly button, but I was in too much of a rush to look for anything else. I rolled the sleeves up so they sat just below my elbows, and as I glanced in the mirror, the addition actually looked natural, like I had planned to wear the sweatshirt, not that I had thrown it on to cover something up.

I grabbed my trunk and Willow's cage and Apparated onto Platform 9 ¾. When I got there, the area was already packed.

There were scared looking kids, probably off for their first year at Hogwarts, who were looking pale as their parents tried to encourage them, and tell them how much fun school was going to be. There were also a bunch of reunited friends, and the platform was filled with excited squeals.

Suddenly, I was assaulted by my own personal squeal, and I felt someone jump onto my back. "Maaadisoooon!" Alexa yelled, stretching out the vowels of my name as I attempted to remove her. However, after years of this, Alexa had a technique as to how to stay on my back as long as she wanted too.

She proceeded to jump off my back, and for revenge, I hugged her tightly, probably depriving her of oxygen. After about 15 seconds and a lot of struggling on her part, I finally released her.

"Oh my gosh, Maddy, I have so much to tell you!" She gushed. She was a lot tanner than usual, probably due to the time she spent in Egypt. "I met so many boys! There was one in Egypt who had the most amazing abs, and another guy in Australia who could sing, like, REALLY WELL." Trust Alexa to spend most of her trip chasing after guys.

"I can't wait to hear about it, Alexa! Now, let's go find the Head's compartment, I'm sure they won't mind if I bring a guest." I said, hoping she'd catch on to my good news. I hadn't had a chance to tell her in my letters.

She did. "You got Head Girl, Maddy? YAY! I mean, I knew you'd get it and all, but now it's confirmed. That is so cool!" She beamed at me, and I returned with a smile just as big.

We walked onto the train, and found our way into the Heads compartment. Unlike the usual train compartments, it was big and spacious, two huge plush couches, ample floor room, a table in the middle, and a set of shelves filled with various treats, complimentary to the Heads.

We lounged comfortably onto the couches; she laid across one and I sat with my legs crossed in the middle of the other one. I listened to her as she raved about all of the great things she did over the summer. Finally, she asked me, "How was your summer?"

"Oh, it was the usual, a lot of running, reading, and flying." I told her, leaving out the dancing part (I've told no one about that; I've always liked it as my little secret) and the fact that I spent most of the summer avoiding my parents.

"Flying over my house, to be specific." A smirking James Potter stood at the door to the compartment, followed by his friends.

"That only happened once, Potter, and you know it." I glared at him, which only resulted in his smirk widening. "Plus, this compartment is for Heads and friends of the Heads only."

"That's the thing, Flint, we are friends of the Head." Fred Weasley added, looking ready to burst with laughter.

How on earth did one of them end up Head Boy? Sure, Johnson was Prefect, but I had expected the Ravenclaw Prefect, Jackson Davies, to end up Head Boy, not Johnson. I assumed his association with Potter and Weasley would automatically bump him out of the running.

"Congrats, Johnson." I said, plastering a smile on my face. At least he wasn't unbearable.

Johnson looked at me mischievously. "I'm not Head Boy," He said, a small smirk playing across his features.

I cocked my head to the side, as if the action would suddenly allow the answer to pour into my upturned ear.

At this point, all four boys were smirking at me as I sat there in confusion.

"Then which one of you is it?" I asked curiously.

"Me." Potter answered proudly.

I couldn't help it – I burst into laughter. If they were going to try to pull this, they should have at least chosen someone who could plausibly been Head Boy. "Wow," I said as I caught my breath, "You guys really had me going for a second! Now get out, I'm sure the real Head Boy is probably needing to get in soon; we need to review notes for the first meeting."

Potter looked a little uncomfortable, and slightly offended by my bout of laughter. "But, I really am Head Boy." He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a badge. It looked exactly like mine, except it read "Head Boy" instead of "Head Girl."

My jaw dropped. James Potter… Head Boy? He was always getting into trouble – how did he get the most prestigious position in the entire school? McGonagall must have finally been knocked off her rocker, because Potter was certainly not the best choice for the job. Hell, half the school was a better choice for the job. What was she thinking?

Potter smiled at me and plopped down right next to me on the couch. "So, didn't you want to review notes, Flint?" He sounded almost… civil?

"I think I should probably change into my robes, so I look professional for the meeting and all." I said as I stood up, grabbing my robes and leaving the room.

"I'll go with you," He added, and followed me out of the compartment. Ugh, the guy was infuriating. Could he not leave me alone for one second? I turned on him.

"How the heck did you make Head Boy? Is this McGonagall's idea of a sick joke? Because it sure isn't funny." I said, essentially exploding in his face.

He stood there in shock, and I used the free moment to storm away. However, before I could, he grabbed my arm. My right arm, just above my elbow, where a massive welt sat from my father's hand. As he pulled me back towards him, I screwed my face up in concentration and bit my lip, fighting the tears forming in my eyes as pain seared across my arm.

James noticed my evident pain, and let go immediately, concern washing over his features. "What's wrong?" He asked.

I quickly tried to come up with something. "Erm… Quidditch. I hurt my arm playing Quidditch." I muttered. Wow, Madison, real convincing. I don't even play over the summer, with the exception of flying around. Normally I'm actually a pretty good liar, but, for some reason, my brain spouted off the stupidest possible excuse ever.

He probably knew that, and I could tell he didn't believe me. He grabbed my wrist, and despite my best efforts to pull away from him, he was still stronger than me. He gently nudged my sweatshirt sleeve up, and upon seeing the handprint-shape on my arm that had started bruising and was now a watercolor mixture of blue, purple, and red, he gasped.

"Flint, who did this?" He looked at me, worry etched into his facial expression.

"It doesn't matter, Potter." I muttered as I pulled away, a faint blush creeping up my features as I realized we were standing only a few inches apart. I couldn't believe he had seen that. And now he was probably going to tell all his little friends and soon the entire school would know and I'd have to make up some bullshit explanation because my mother would positively murder me for ruining the family reputation.

Ok, maybe I'm overthinking this. But regardless, why did James think he had the right to snoop into my life like that? I was just some girl he played cat-and-mouse with, nothing more.

I quickly hurried down the train hallway until I found the loo, where I quickly changed into my robes. As I was straightening my tie, I felt the train lurch forward. Shit. I was late for the Prefect's meeting, and it was all Potter's fault. If I hadn't been irritated with him before, I was now.

I basically ran to the Prefect's compartment, thankful that I had folded my meeting notes the night before and placed them in my robe pocket.

I entered the Prefect compartment to see all eyes on me, including Potter's. Out of all of them, his happened to be the ones I caught. His eyes still showed concern, but I shook myself out of it, and started the meeting.

"Alright, Prefects, I'm your new Head Girl, Madison Flint, and this here's your new Head Boy, James Potter." I started, pointing to Potter as I spoke, and fighting off the inevitable scowl that came with acknowledging that he was Head Boy.

"At the end of the meeting, I'll pass around a calendar for the month, and you can sign up for your patrolling dates. Please, if at all possible, try to serve duty with someone outside of your House, for the sake of promoting inter-House unity." I said.

"In addition, the first Hogsmeade visit will be on October 30. Please put this on the bulletin boards in your respective Houses. I think that's about all that needs to be covered in this meeting. Potter, do you have anything to add?" I looked at him, expecting him to blow me off and dismiss the Prefects. However, he surprised me by standing up and beginning to talk.

"Please let your Houses know that leaving for Christmas break is mandatory this year. Apparently, there will be some construction in the castle over the break. That's all, you can begin patrolling the train."

As shocked as I was by his sudden leadership, I felt my heart drop at his words. This morning I had thought I would never have to go home again. However, in a matter of seconds, I was knocked off of my little cloud by the thought that I had to spend yet another horrible holiday with my parents. Unless… I'll go with Alexa! There we go, heart, you can rise back up to my chest cavity again. Although how he had gotten the news and I hadn't was a mystery.

While the Prefects filed out of the compartment, James looked down at me, with that same look of concern he had worn earlier.

"Madison, please tell me, who did that to you?" He pleaded. He used my first name again. It sent weird shivers down my spine and I didn't like it one bit.

"Potter, I don't feel like talking about it, and even if I did, it's none of your business. And don't call me Madison!" I snapped back, irritated by his advances. It was like he expected me to fall like jelly into his arms and tell him all of my problems. I mentally scoffed. Like that was ever going to happen.

With that, I turned on my heel and left the compartment, heading back to the Heads compartment, where I at least had the security of company, even if some of it was Potter's pigheaded friends. At least it was better than being alone with the pighead king himself.

I successfully made it through the train ride and into the Great Hall without being confronted again by Potter. Why couldn't he get it through his thick head that my life was none of his business?

"… And that concludes our Sorting Hat ceremony." McGonagall said, making her way to the podium to make her start-of-term remarks. Apparently, I had missed the entire ceremony while drowning in my own thoughts

"Students," McGonagall's voice filled the Hall, and everyone automatically fell silent. She seemed to have that effect on people, and I was never sure if there was a spell involved or not. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. For some it is your first, and for others, it is your last." She paused dramatically. "I have a few important things that need to be said. The Forbidden Forest is off-limits. Also, please do not attempt to damage the Whomping Willow, as it will most likely end in a visit to the Hospital Wing."

Ever since third year, when Benny Middleton had attempted to ride one of the branches of the Willow and been thrown over fifty feet in the air, she had to remind students of this. Honestly, the stupid things people do.

"Finally, after dinner, Heads will report to my office. That is all. Enjoy your dinner." She finished her speech and instantly, food appeared in front of us. I hadn't eaten lunch on the train, so I was ravenously hungry. _Watch it, Madison_. Once again, I heard my mother's reprimands inside my head. I grabbed a slice of turkey and a small scoop of mashed potatoes. I ate quietly, talking only to Alexa, and avoiding the staring eyes of a certain someone who I really didn't want to have to deal with at the moment.

After dinner, I started to make my way to McGonagall's office, but as I left, Potter decided to follow me out. Logically, it made sense, since we were both headed to the same place, but I just really didn't want a confrontation again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "Drop it, Potter. If I wanted you to know the intricate details of my life, you would. But clearly, I don't, and I also don't see why you're suddenly so concerned about my life." I snapped at him.

He stared back down at me quizzically for a moment before replying, "Fine, Flint, but I will find out someday. But before we walk into McGonagall's office, we need to set something straight. We can't spend this entire year bickering. We're supposed to be role models for the younger students, and we can't do that if we're constantly screaming at each other. So, what do you say? Truce?"

I stood there, momentarily flabbergasted as he extended his hand. I looked at his hand warily. "Does this mean you won't ask me out anymore?"

"Sure." He replied and I could have sworn I heard a hint of regret. Probably because he would miss watching me turn all shades of pink after he embarrassed the absolute crap out of me. That was all it was, after all.

"Fine," I muttered, grabbing his hand and shaking it, before turning to the gargoyles and telling them the password to the Headmistress's office.

We walked into the office, where McGonagall was sitting at her desk. "Sit down," She instructed, as she conjured two chairs right in front of her desk.

We both obliged, sitting quickly so that she could get on with her speech. She talked about upcoming events and the like, and to be perfectly honest, I kind of tuned her out to let my brain run wild.

How long was this truce going to last? It probably wouldn't last very long, and we'd be in a screaming match in the Charms corridor in a matter of two weeks. I don't think he could be not-annoying for longer than 24 hours. The back of my mind felt the need to remind me that he had been relatively civil today, were it not for the fact that he felt the need to find out who slapped me. I shushed that portion of my thoughts, and returned to the original ones.

I was snapped back to attention as Potter began to stand up – clearly the meeting was over. Had I really missed all that? I stood up quickly and went to follow him, but instead turned back to McGonagall, remembering the burning question that had been at the forefront of my mind for most of the day.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, I don't mean to be rude, but I was just wondering something." I said.

"You're wondering why I chose Mr. Potter as Head Boy, am I correct?" After I vigorously nodded, she continued. "I hoped the position would help his maturity. Headmaster Dumbledore had quite a bit of success with that last time he tried it, with some, unintended, but rather pleasant consequences." She smiled at me sympathetically, as I stood there dazed, and somewhat confused by her last comment.

What?

Nonetheless, I gathered the scattered pieces of my mind and headed out the door, where I saw a rather impatient James Potter waiting for me.

"What were you talking to her about?" He asked curiously, as we started walking towards the common room.

I could have lied to him, but after the previous debacle I didn't feel like lying anymore. "I was asking what possessed her to make you Head Boy," I told him honestly.

He looked quite amused. "And what did she say?"

"She thought it would help you grow up a little faster." I told him, smirking just a little.

He chuckled at that, and stopped, which I didn't realize until I looked behind me.

"Potter? Why are you stopped in the middle of the hall?" I asked him, as he turned towards a tapestry.

He looked at me with amusement. "It's a shortcut." He pulled the tapestry aside, revealing a staircase. I turned back towards him, and he followed behind me as I entered. The thought occurred to me that I was letting James Potter lead me down an empty corridor, and that I probably shouldn't trust him. But we were at a truce for now, so I guess it was okay. "What do you think about having your own room?" He asked me, obviously trying to continue the conversation.

Unfortunately for the both of us, I had no idea what he was talking about. "Erm… What?" I asked, making no effort to hide the obvious confusion in my voice.

He chuckled. "Were you not listening to McGonagall?" When I shook my head, he smiled. "I never thought I'd see the day where Madison Flint wasn't paying attention to a teacher. Anyways, Heads have their own dorms. This year, since we're both Gryffindors, the room is just a few portraits down. We, erm, have a shared common room and bathroom." He looked down, probably expecting some sort of reaction.

He got one. I stopped in my tracks. "WHAT?" I nearly yelled. I was sharing a bathroom with bloody James Potter? Sure, he'd been decent all day long, but that didn't mean it would last. He'd probably steal my clothes while I was showering or something like that.

Potter turned back, looking sheepish. "Don't worry, Flint, I won't try to pull anything on you." The boy had read my mind. That was just weird.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, we finally reached the top of the staircase. Sure enough, we were only a flight of stairs away from the Gryffindor portrait. I let Potter lead the way, since, after all, he had been paying attention to McGonagall.

He stopped in front of a portrait of an old man, sitting in a chair. He told the portrait, "Dux Ducis," and it swung open, revealing a small common room.

It looked quite similar to the Gryffindor common room, only shrunk down in size, which made sense, seeing as it was designed for two people instead of nearly one hundred. And there was a door smack dab in the middle, which I assumed led to the bathroom.

Instead of waiting for some sort of conversation, I headed down the hallway on the left, hoping that the positioning of the dorms would be the same in this room as they were in Gryffindor. Fortunately, I was right. But instead of displaying a number on the sign on the door, indicating a year, like the doors normally did, this one read "HEAD GIRL" in large, bold letters. I smiled at the sign and opened the door.

The room was smaller than a normal dormitory, but since it only housed one person, the space was still larger than what I would have in my old dormitory. Inside sat a bed, much larger than the one in my usual room, but with identical bedding. A desk sat at one end of the room, a wardrobe at the other end, and a massive burgundy and gold rug was laid out in the middle. It was gorgeous, and it was all mine.

I grabbed my pajamas from my trunk, and headed towards the shower, which, reluctantly, forced me to go back to the common room. As I walked into the area, I noticed that James had already gone up to his dorm. Undisturbed, I turned on the water and stepped into the shower. The moment the water hit my skin, it was instantly met with a spark of pain. I let out an involuntary gasp, and looked down at my arm, reminded of the morning's events, which were previously pushed from my mind. I quickly turned the water to a milder temperature, and continued on.

I dressed quickly, praying Potter wouldn't come in (honestly, who thought giving the Head Boy and Girl a shared bathroom was a good idea?). I walked back up the stairs, and crawled into bed.

Today had been a long day, and it was only just the beginning.

**A/N: REVIEW FOR FREE COOKIES (well, actually, they're metaphorical… I can't give real cookies through the Internet).**


	6. Of Blokes and Blushing

**EDIT BEFORE PUBLISHING**

The first morning back was like any other. I woke up before the sun had risen, and set out for a run. By the time I got back, the sun was peeking over the horizon, signaling to me that I still had another two hours until breakfast. I liked it that way; I could read and do whatever until I had to be down for breakfast.

I got back to the dorm, and headed straight for the showers. I had no qualms about turning the water as cold as I could, because the bruising on my arm was already starting to fade. Fortunately for me, I heal pretty quickly.

I took my time in the shower, letting the cold water run until I was almost shivering, then I turned it up to hot to warm me back up.

I wrapped the towel around myself and started to walk back in my room. The Marauders always got down to breakfast at the last possible second, so I wasn't too concerned about running into Potter. But then again, I never was the luckiest person.

So naturally, as I exited the doorway, I saw, stepping through the portrait hole, having obviously just finished running as well, the one person I was trying to avoid. Upon seeing the towel wrapped around me, which I subconsciously pulled tighter, he raised one eyebrow and smirked. Yes, the prat smirked at me.

It didn't help that he was shirtless. And damn.

I felt a flush creep up into my cheeks, and quickly walked to my room, making sure the towel was covering as much of me as was possible, which, due to my height, wasn't very much. Indeed, the towel stopped at the top of my thigh, shorter than any skirt I'd ever worn.

When I got back to my room, I flipped back down on the bed, willing my heart to stop pounding and my hands to stop sweating. Damn you, James Potter. He was going to give me so much hell for this later. Probably some horrible snarky comment about the "show" I provided for him. Sodding idiot.

Not to mention the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. His entire abdomen was glistening with sweat, emphasizing his six-pack abs. Sweet Merlin. I found myself suddenly liking Quidditch for a whole other reason.

Bloody hell. Did I really just think that? No. I didn't, actually. I did not find Potter the least bit attractive, even if the thought of his bare chest was causing my breathing to pick up pace.

I repeatedly breathed in the scent of my duvet, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, until the inhales came at regular enough intervals to be considered normal. I pushed myself off the bed, and dressed, putting on my white button-down shirt, grey skirt, black ballet flats, tie, and sweater vest, and finally sliding on my robes, with both the Quidditch Captain and Head Girl badges displayed prominently.

I still had issues with these uniforms: honestly, it's still summer outside and I'm wearing about 20 layers. Teenagers already sweat enough, are the teachers trying to turn the school into a massive B.O.-fest?

I brushed my hair, and then French-braided it down my back, tying it so that about six inches hung loose, curling lightly. Thanks to my mother's incessant nagging, I put on a little foundation, eyeliner, and mascara so that I "didn't scare the innocent first-years of Hogwarts." I spritzed a little perfume onto my skin, and headed down to the common room, bag in tow and a heavy copy of _Magical Moral Perspective_ under my arm. The book was massive and admittedly a little dull, but it was a different subject matter than anything I had ever read about before. Let's not discuss the depths of my nerdiness now, shall we?

I sat on the couch, pulling my legs into a butterfly position, and opening the massive book in front of me. Alexa always laughed at me reading in the morning, finding it funny that I "always had to be doing something." I always laughed it off, but I knew the real reason. I had conditioned myself to always be occupied, because then I minimized having to interact with my parents, and the habit kind of came with me to school.

I heard movement coming from James's room, and jumped off the couch, sending the massive book tumbling to the floor. I quickly scooped it up, along with my bag, and hurried out of the common room, to avoid James and the taunting I knew would come from his presence, thanks to the wonderful towel incident this morning.

I wandered down the steps, knowing that Alexa wouldn't be at breakfast yet, so I was confined to a breakfast by myself. However, as I walked into the Hall, I was waved down by two Ravenclaw guys, Nathan Brown and Harrison Price.

I had met the pair in Arithmancy my third year, a class that Alexa refused to take with me. Nathan was a Ravenclaw Prefect with chestnut brown hair. He was really quite funny, but not many people saw that because he studied so much. He wore glasses, but they did little to hide the piercing pale blue eyes underneath. I actually dated him for a part of fifth year, but we both decided we were better off as friends, and against the whole "you can't be friends after a break-up" thing, we still got on quite well.

On the other hand, Harrison was a Beater for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He didn't study a whole lot, which was why the friendship between the two boys seemed so strange. But I guess Alexa and I were friends too despite being polar opposites, so this was not much of an exception.

In general, I got on with boys much better than I did with girls. Probably something to do with the fact that I preferred Quidditch to shopping and reading to makeup. As a girl, I was kind of a failure: a fact that my mother never failed to point out. I would probably have befriended the boys in Gryffindor, were it not that their leader seemed to have an incessant need to embarrass me.

I smiled at them, heading for the table. At least now I wouldn't be eating breakfast alone. I sat down between the two, who had scooted apart to make room for me, ignoring the strange looks I got for sitting at the wrong house table. Oh well. I didn't care.

"How was your summer, Maddy?" Nathan turned to me and asked, halfway through eating his toast. He had heard Alexa refer to me as Maddy at some point, and picked up on it too. Personally, I found the nickname kind of annoying, but who was I to tell people they had to add the final syllable to my name?

"The usual," I replied, knowing that it wasn't a lie. Although lying was something I had gotten rather good at. "Yours?"

"Awesome," Harrison interjected. "We spend most of the summer hanging around my house, because there's this awesome club nearby, and plenty of girls, and – "

"I get the point, Hare." I cut him off before he could continue. The downside of being friends with the two was hearing about their many escapades. Man, why did I seem to attract the friendships of all the playboys?

He glared at me for the use of the nickname. He'd always disliked the whole "hare" sounding like a rabbit thing. But hey, if they got to call me Maddy, I would call them whatever I wanted. Even if it equated the massive Beater to a bunny.

As the two boys ate massive amounts of food off their plates, I reached for the coffeepot and poured myself a mug.

"I heard from someone you got it on with Gavin Wood over the summer," Nathan reported casually.

I almost spit coffee across the table. I choked on it instead, and ended up having a coughing fit in an attempt to clear my throat.

"Is that a guilty thing, or a denial thing?" Harrison asked, smirking.

"I absolutely did not shag Wood!" I replied indignantly. I hadn't given up my V-card yet, for your information.

"So the whole Potter flipping out on him for shacking up with you was a rumor too?" Nathan pressed. Godric, these boys are too much for first thing in the morning. Where do they get this stupid gossip? And aren't guys supposed to be… I dunno… separated from that kind of thing? Obviously not these two.

I whacked myself in the forehead. Honestly, the rumor mill at Hogwarts is the strangest piece of machinery ever. I don't think I've so much as talked to Wood alone, so where they pulled that piece of information from was completely unknown to me.

"Why would Potter even care anyway?" I replied.

Both boys shrugged. Apparently some students had the idea that Potter actually liked me, but fortunately, both the Ravenclaw boys saw straight through it.

I watched as James and his friends sauntered in, grabbing as much attention as they could as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. I saw Potter's eyes sweep down the table, and then look to where I was sitting. I saw a flash of emotion in his eye – was that… anger? Oh, yes, what a shame he missed the opportunity to mock me for my lack of clothing at 7:30 in the morning.

When Alexa entered the Great Hall, I said my goodbyes to Nathan and Harrison, moving back over to the Gryffindor table. After all, they would be handing out timetables soon, and I needed to be at my House table for that.

"So how is the lovely seventh-year dorm?" I asked, pasting a sickly sweet smile on my face. Both of us knew she loathed the other girls in our room: Gigi Rogers, Francesca Hyde, and Yolanda van Leeuwen.

Gigi was honestly a nightmare. She had "platinum blonde" hair and doe-like brown eyes. She never left the dormitory without copious amounts of eyeliner, hot pink lipstick, and a hooker-worthy hairstyle. She was, to put it bluntly, a complete slag. Whereas Alexa serial-dated, Gigi serial-copulated. Honestly, I would be surprised if she didn't have at least 2 STIs. She was always up putting on her whore-face before I got back from my run, yet she still managed to show up late for breakfast everyday. Either she sneaks in a quickie beforehand, or she really takes that long to get ready. Either one is just sad. I feel like just describing her makes me sound like a terrible and judgmental person, but after six years with her, I can't really come up with another way to describe her.

She also has a massive crush on Potter. Like, she's the head of his fan club. Because, yes, the prick has his own freaking fan club. But I digress.

Francesca was Gigi's minion. Honestly, there was no better word. Without Gigi around, Francesca looked like a lost puppy. Or, more accurately, a lost prostitute. Her black hair was stick straightened down her back, black eyeshadow going up to her browbone, and her heels impossibly high. How both girls managed to travel around the school all day in hooker heels was a mystery. Even with them on, though, neither girl was as tall as me. Oh, the curse of being abnormally tall.

Yolanda wasn't bad, per say. She just never spoke, at least to us. She was a Dutch transfer student, and chose not to speak English. Instead, she and her Hufflepuff twin sister, whose name I didn't exactly know, could be seen together at nearly all times, whispering to each other in Dutch, their matching blonde hair plaited down their backs.

Alexa glared at me. But then she pasted on her own sugar-smile. "So how is the lovely Heads dorm?"

I planted my face on the table, trying to hide the pink that was creeping up my face. I thought redheads were the ones that were supposed to blush like crazy, not blondes. Even more proof that I'm a freak of nature. "Let's not discuss that, shall we?"

Alexa giggled, then shrugged. "Deal. Now when are we getting these stupid timetables?"

On cue, the Heads of Houses all made their ways to their respective House tables: Professor Flitwick to Ravenclaw, Professor Huntington to Hufflepuff, Professor Nott to Slytherin, and Professor Longbottom to Gryffindor.

Seventh years got their schedules first, so I very quickly found myself looking at my timetable.

I had a free period before lunch on Mondays, first thing in the morning on Wednesdays, and at the end of the day on Friday. However, the number of double class periods made my head spin. Man, when they said seventh year was a killer, they weren't kidding.

"Double Potions on a Monday morning had to be some sort of crime against humanity," I whined to Alexa, as she stared at her timetable in shock.

Don't get me wrong, I love Potions. Professor Nott, however, is another story. He's got a horrible disposition and clearly favors the Slytherins. Fortunately we doubled with Hufflepuff, so at least he wouldn't be targeting our class only. If there was one thing he hated more than Gryffindors, it was Hufflepuffs.

Personally, I couldn't see what was so bad about them, considering they were all really sweet. Well, except for one of them.

"Sup, sexy?" Kind and loyal, my arse.

I looked up, from the table, meeting eyes with Garrett Goldstein. Think of the devil and the devil shall appear. Or something like that.

He was short and squatty, with short, curly, blonde hair and muddy-colored eyes. He seemed to have developed a creepy obsession with me, and was extremely good at knowing where I was at any given moment. Therefore, my creative mind had nicknamed him Stalker Boy.

But honestly, the kid was worse than Potter. And that's saying something.

"I have a name, you know," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Sexy" and "babe" were his two favorite nicknames for me.

"Yes, and I'll be screaming it tonight," he said, waggling his eyebrows. Where the kid got all these sexual innuendos from was a mystery to me. They came out like a fountain any time he spoke to me.

Anyone within two meters of our conversation snickered. Awesome, Stalker Boy and I have an audience.

"Aw, you named your right hand after me?" I placed my hand over my heart, pretending to be touched. "How sweet." After years of this kind of taunting from both him and Potter, I had developed quite an arsenal of comebacks.

The snickers turned to contained laughter. Alexa's shoulders were shaking beside me. At least I had the upper hand, for now.

His face reddened, but he continued. "Well, you're certainly the picture in my mind, babe," he shot back, his voice becoming greasier by the second.

I gagged, as Alexa's forehead made contact with the wooden table in an attempt to hide her laughter. What a wonderful best friend.

As Stalker Boy scanned the laughing Gryffindors, I wracked my brain for a witty reply, but it was a little too busy being completely and utterly repulsed to come up with anything.

Fortunately, I didn't even need it. Stalker Boy's face turned even redder, and he began to stammer. "I'll just – I'll be – just going now."

He left me, hurrying back to his table. I was horribly confused… since when did he just leave like that? Usually, I had to stalk off before he'd relent and stop with all the sexual comments. Oh well. I won't bite the hand that feeds me.

I'm just full of horrible clichés today, now aren't I?

The bell rang, and all the students stood up to go to their first classes. Alexa and I hurried down to the dungeons, hoping to sit together.

"I've assigned Potions partners for the remainder of the term," Professor Nott drawled, as soon as the bell signaled the start of class. "If I hear any grumbling, it'll be detention."

Watch it be Potter. Nott probably has a vendetta against me anyway, so I wouldn't be surprised if he paired me with the one person that I cannot stand. But then again, he might not want to give Potter the satisfaction of teasing me all term, so maybe I would be lucky and avoid it.

He picked up a piece of parchment off his desk. "Potter and Rogers, van Leeuwen and van Leeuwen, Johnson and Thomas, Wood and Goldstein, Hyde and Richter, Richards and Middleton, and finally, Weasley and Flint."

Oh sweet Merlin. Weasley was as bad as – if not worse than – Potter. Maybe he didn't ask me out all the time, but he blew up cauldrons for fun. His dad owned Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which was this massive wizard joke store, and Weasley always had some product from the store, and he seemed to think it was a smart idea to just drop them into halfway-completed potions, "just to see what would happen." Yes, because an explosion was the absolute last thing you'd expect.

He sidled up next to me. "How's it going, partner?"

"I swear to Merlin, Fred Weasley, if you muck up my Potions grade with your stupid Weasley's products, I will ensure you never get to pass on your pranking streak." My voice came out quite a bit more threatening than I had intended, my eyes narrowing to slits. I was more than a little defensive when it came to my grades.

Weasley threw his hands up in the air, in an act of surrender. "Jeez, Flint. I won't screw up your precious potion!"

Under his breath, he muttered slyly, "I'll screw up other people's," thinking I couldn't hear him.

He earned himself a jab in the arm for that one.

"Damn, Flint," he cursed, reaching up to cradle his bicep. "For such a innocent-looking creature, you sure pack a punch."

I shrugged, reaching down to my bag to pull out my Potions book. "A feisty streak, eh? I like it. No wonder James is crazy about you."

I froze, my arm still inside my bag looking for my copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

In the break in conversation, I could hear Potter and Gigi sit down behind us. Gigi giggled loudly, and for a moment I felt satisfied knowing someone had a shorter end of the stick than I did.

Damn, what was up with all the idioms that kept showing up in my mind today?

Back to what I should have been thinking about: what the hell was Weasley talking about? James wasn't "crazy about me."

I straightened up, bringing my books with me, my cheeks significantly redder than they were when I bent over. I hoped I could pull that off as blood rushing to my head.

"Oh, James, I'm so glad you're my partner this year!" Gigi crooned from behind us, wrapping her cat-claws around Potter's bicep. And when I call them claws, I'm not kidding. They're super long and always painted some horribly bright pink color. She dug them into my arm at one point and drew blood.

Did I mention she hates me for some unknown reason?

Potter let out something between a groan and a chuckle, and the resulting sound was rather comical. "Erm, yeah," he muttered, attempting to turn out of her grip. Not going to happen, Potter. Those claws latch onto things.

She leaned forward, giving Potter a clear view of her ample cleavage – honestly, how does she manage to show cleavage in these uniforms? – and twirled a perfectly constructed curl around her finger. I felt a sudden rush of irritation, but I couldn't figure out why. "I just know we're going to have so much _fun_ this year – "

She was interrupted by Professor Nott. "Quiet, students," he snapped. "Today, you will be brewing the Draught of Living Death, a potion which induces a deep, death-like sleep in the drinker. Vials will be turned in at the end of the period, and the instructions can be found on page three-hundred forty-eight."

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm back down, because I was still kind of irritated, and even more so because I couldn't figure out why. I flipped to the right page in the book. The first thing I noticed as I scanned the instructions was that this potion was bloody hard. Like, really, who assigns this complicated of a potion on the first day back? Professor Nott, that's who. I bet he was just bouncing in his seat waiting for one of us to explode a cauldron. Because he's probably sadistic like that.

I looked up from the book, to see Weasley staring at me expectantly. "Well…?" he prodded.

"Do you have any interest in helping me at all this term?" I asked sardonically, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Nope," he replied, popping the "p" for emphasis.

Weasley was just about the laziest student in the history of Hogwarts. He was just lucky that he had so much natural intelligence or else he would have flunked ages ago.

I rolled my eyes, standing up off my stool and making my way to the supplies cabinet.

As I stood in front of the ingredients, someone nudged me. I turned around, facing Alexa.

"How's Weasley?" she asked, smirking.

I groaned. "Looks like I'm doing all the work for this year."

She giggled. She laughs, knowing that I'm being tortured. What a great friend.

"Johnson's kind of cute," she murmured, soft enough that only I could hear.

I looked over at him. He was studying the instructions, biting his lower lip nervously. I guess he was attractive, but I had always seen him so platonically that I never thought much of it.

"Do you like him?" I asked, knowing the answer. Of course she does. Then she'll snog him in a broom cupboard and forget about him. It's just the way the world works.

"I don't know yet. I mean he's cute and funny and stuff, but I don't want to do anything too rash," she replied. What? Alexa isn't suddenly jumping at a new guy? Has the rotation of the Earth changed too?

Alexa narrowed her eyes at me. Shoot, I said that out loud, didn't I? I need to pay closer attention to what's coming out of my mouth.

With all the ingredients in tow, I headed back to the table, where Weasley was waiting for me with a bloody smirk all over his face.

In theory, the Draught of Living Death is simple. Powdered root of asphodel added to an infusion of wormwood.

In actuality, this thing is bloody complicated. It didn't help that part of my brain was trying to analyze my random emotions and Freddy's words at the same time. Nothing made sense anymore, except the bubbling cauldron I was currently adding Valerian root to.

After an hour and a half, the potion was finally ready to be turned in. I filled a phial with the pale pink liquid, taking it up to Professor Nott's desk.

He looked at the potion for a moment, and then glared at me. Oh, I'm sorry, Professor, for brewing a flawless potion and not giving you the chance to insult my intelligence.

I bet he's going to test this on first years.

The bell rang, as I hurried back to the table to collect my belongings. I had a free period now, and without any homework, you better believe I was going to go dance.

That was the only way I could get all these racing thoughts out of my head.

I lost track of time in the Room of Requirement, so I ended up having to shower during lunchtime. I didn't care so much though; I wasn't all that hungry.

When I showed up to Charms after lunch though, Alexa immediately questioned me.

"Where were you during lunch? I looked for you right after I got out of Divination and couldn't find you anywhere!"

"I went to the library to find a new book," I lied offhandedly.

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's lying. I could probably even trick one of those Muggle lie detectors, I'm that good.

"Will you ever get your nose out of a book?" Alexa rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Nahh," I replied, letting her drag me to a table near the front.

I still to this day do not understand why Alexa enjoys sitting in the front of classes. It wasn't like she was a particularly focused note-taker, and I always joked she should be in the back to observe her latest prey. And by prey, I mean hormonal teenage boy that dearly wants a snog. She always replied that she prefers to give rather than take. As in, she'd rather have guys stare at her.

I, on the other hand, sat in the front to pay attention to the lectures, and take detailed notes. If you compared the length of Alexa's notes at the end of any given class to the length of mine, mine usually exceeded hers by at least a few feet.

"Have you heard about Corinne Avery?" Alexa said, as she reached into her school bag for a quill and her signature purple ink.

"What?" I replied eagerly. Alexa always had good gossip, so it was nice to get my share of Hogwarts drama from her.

"She got it off with Jack Nicholson over the summer, apparently," Alexa told me, attempting to hide the laughter that this statement ensued.

"Nicholson? As in, the Hufflepuff with Muggle braces?" Jack Nicholson was a seventh-year Hufflepuff, known distinctively for being very, well, unattractive. He also had a very nasally voice, so he ended up the subject of constant ridicule. If he wasn't the best friend of Stalker Boy, I'd probably feel sorry for him.

"The same," Alexa nodded eagerly, letting out a few giggles along the way. Corinne Avery was a very stuck-up Slytherin seventh-year, who was under the strong impression that she was superior to everyone. So the fact that she slept with one of the most physically unattractive blokes in all of Hogwarts was actually quite ironic.

"Attention, class!" Professor Flitwick's cheery voice rung through the classroom, and instantly the discussion going on around us died down. "Today we will be discussing Protean Charms!"

I swear the man's every sentence ended with an exclamation point. He was just that bubbly, even though he was rather old.

"Now, can someone tell me what a Protean Charm is!" Yes, even his questions sounded like exclamations.

The classroom remained silent for a few moments, as nobody raised their hand.

See, even though I knew the answer, I didn't shoot my hand up in the air, begging to shoot off some textbook answer. I wasn't about to call that much attention to myself out of my own free will. I only got called on when a teacher wanted the exact answer. Which, sadly, was quite often.

"Ah, Miss Flint! Please enlighten us!" Exhibit A to my previous statement.

"A Protean Charm is a charm that links several objects to one another for some common purpose," I rattled off, scribbling my own definition in my notes as I spoke.

I looked over at Alexa's parchment. While my notes had my name, the date, a title, and a full-length definition, Alexa's said three words: "Protean Charm – links." Even our handwriting was polar opposite. Hers was a purple, bubbly print, while mine was a smaller, black script. I liked to think my handwriting was elegant, but after a few feet of essay, it was reduced to what I deemed only one level above chicken-scratch. It was obviously still readable though, so that was all that mattered.

"Correct!" Flitwick cheered. There was absolutely no other way to describe his voice when it became that high-pitched. "Five points to Gryffindor!"

"Protean Charms link objects, so that they can be used for magical communication!" Flitwick continued. "Can someone tell me one important historical use of the Protean Charm!"

This time, someone else raised their hand, as Flitwick called out, "Mister Weasley!"

Since when did Weasley actually participate in class? Please excuse me, I think I've travelled to an alternate universe where Potter leaves me alone and my parents actually love me.

Oh, how I wish.

Momentary bitterness aside, I turned around in my seat, interested to hear his reply.

"Dumbledore's Army, during the Second Wizarding War," Weasley answered promptly, and I found myself shocked that he actually knew the correct answer.

I noticed that Potter was staring intently at the corner of the table, thumbing the edge of his parchment. He tended to get this way whenever his father was brought up.

It's kind of funny that the main thing Potter's famous for it his father, yet it's the one thing he doesn't flaunt.

Okay, when did I start psychoanalyzing Potter?

I quickly turned back to my notes, writing furiously to distract myself from what my brain had decided it wanted to do: delve into Potter's psyche.

Like, honestly, brain, what the hell? I have enough issues to deal with, without adding Potter's, whatever they may be, into the mix.

Why is it that this year I'm already having trouble paying undivided attention in class?

And why do I have a feeling that this is only the beginning?

Damn, I missed whatever Flitwick just said.

**A/N: Sorry for the new-character-overload, I didn't really mean for it to happen that way! Can anyone guess why Stalker Boy ran away? It's not that hard to figure out! ;) As always, please review! That little grey box is very hungry!**


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